If Only
by ColdInfernol
Summary: Life's filled with dark memories and painful regrets. This is no exception. One-shot. Percabeth.
1. Patience

_**First PJO fanfic, hope you guys like it! And please review, review, and review! Don't be like the readers of my other fic, seriously. It's discouraging... :/**_

_**Anyway, enough whining on my part, enjoy! (I'll finish up the one-shot if there are actually people who want me to.)**_

_**Only Place I Call Home – Every Avenue**_

* * *

The man sighs contentedly, ruffling his already messy black hair. He's picked the perfect spot – a bench indiscreetly located next to several bushes, tucked away in the northeast corner of the small park. It's not shaded, and the bright summer suns beats down uncomfortably on his lean, muscled body. But that very seat provides him with a view of the playground and most of the park. Worth it, he decides, returning his attention to the newspaper in his hands. Its yesterday's edition, already crumpled and read several times; nevertheless, the man casts his weary eyes once again over the familiar headlines, half-heartedly scanning the yesterday's hottest topics – today's mundane, ignored information.

How he wishes the past can be just as easily forgotten as the news. Or perhaps not. At this stage, he hardly knows what he actually wants.

The man glances around the almost-empty park. Nothing of interest… so far. He can't even read the tiny print on the paper clearly, not with his disability. But there's nothing better to do to pass the time, so he sips his bottle of water, and back to paper he looks.

* * *

Deeply engrossed.

_Every fine, black line. Every crease and crinkle. Every clouded grey circle – his fault, he should've been more careful with the liquid._

The man is utterly captivated. His newspaper lies disregarded on the ground. At that moment, nothing else in the world matters, because all he wants, no, _needs, _is right in front of him.

_Every fine, black line. Every crease and crinkle. Every clouded grey circle – his fault, he should've been more careful with the liquid._

* * *

_**Thanks for reading - its obviously not complete. This is just the intro/taster, so review for more! :)**_


	2. Guilt

_**Firstly, a special thank you to Hunter of Artemis 140 for reviewing! I was going to post the rest of the one-shot (well, a one-shot split into 3 chapters), but there were some hitches with the ending, so here's the second part.**_

_**A minimum of one, just a measly one, review before I post the third and final chapter seems reasonable to me... of course, the more the better. Enjoy and review!**_

* * *

He can feel the adrenaline and heat pulsing through his blood, as his body struggles to keep up with his inner turmoil. The pain in his heart throbs, fades, then grows once again, fighting against the joy welling up inside him. The scene in front of him is like a drug. He can't tear his eyes away, and it's slowly killing him… but… _saving_ him at the same time.

_Every fine, black line._

The little girl leaps excitedly onto the swing, singing in triumph because she's finally gotten there first and does not have to wait for her turn. She squirms about, urging her mother to push her. Higher! Faster! She grips the swing tighter, squealing happily all the while. Higher! Faster! The girl's hair has come loose by now, flying all over the place in a black tangle. The man can't help noticing every fine strand is wavy and black, as black as jet. Just like his own.

_Every crease and crinkle._

The girl on the swing has finally had enough, and clambers down, her innocent face creased into a wide grin. The woman bends over, patting her daughter affectionately on the cheek. Her daughter's bubbly mood is contagious, and her usually solemn and reflective expression softens. She doesn't laugh, oh no, she hasn't done that in a long, long time. But the faintest hint of a smile touches the corner of her mouth; a few crinkles, nothing more.

_Every clouded grey circle._

The man looks at the first pair of circles, and he sees nothing but bright, uncorrupted elation. He sighs. Sometimes, he wishes he can be like the little girl - oblivious, lively, and forever young. The man's gaze travels elsewhere, seeking out something he doesn't want to see.

And suddenly, he finds it. There it is. What he lost.

The man stares long and deep into those stormy, swirling, grey pools. Those pools are filled with unimaginable sorrow and regret – yet there's also this flicker of self-righteousness, which calmly announces: _I did the right thing. I did what was best for my child_. And that is what hurts more than anything, more than all the tears, all the slaps, all the insults.

_But why?_ He asks silently. _Why does it hurt so badly?_

The answer comes just as easily as the question.

Because she's right. Because _he knows _she's right. Because _he knows _she has every single reason in the world to stand up and shout 'Injustice!' But she doesn't. She knows that he knows. And that's enough for her.

The woman finally notices the man watching her, and half-turns to meet his intense stare. Like so many times before, clouded grey meets piercing sea-green in a clash of colour and emotion. The moment seems to last an eternity for both of them. Every little thing they once shared, many years ago – it all surges to the surface of their minds. No words are needed; all that could be said would be best left unspoken.

Then, without warning, the woman spins around abruptly, grabs her daughter, and strides purposefully towards the exit of the small park. _It's over and you know it, Percy._

The man doesn't give chase. Deep inside, he understands he has long since forfeited that privilege. _Forfeited that privilege. _The words involuntarily cause a pang of bitterness to shiver up his spine. _Privilege. _He hadn't always thought of her in this way. Of course he does now, but he didn't back then, when it actually mattered. Closing his eyes, he recalls his life's biggest regret…


	3. Repentance

_**Warning: mild violence, occasional vulgar language, and alcohol/drug abuse. Strong T. Angst/Tragedy/Romance for a reason.**_

_**Here is it. The 3rd and last chapter! It's quite a bit longer and a lot more mature than the first two parts of 'If Only'. Writing it took quite some effort, and I felt emotionally drained, to be honest. All I can say is I wish it touches you all too! Hope it doesn't disappoint!**_

_**Once again, thank you to all who reviewed! **_

_**Hunter of Artemis - Your consistent encouragement really helped me continue writing! Cheers! :)**_

_**L6DaN97 - A long and thoughtful review; thanks a lot!**_

_**This is dedicated to everyone who has had a regret and to all the broken families. Sometimes, there's only one chance. Get it right.**_

_**Percy's flashback (denoted with italics) begins... now. Enjoy.**_

* * *

_"Hey – Percy." A pair of gentle hands try to shake him out of his alcohol-induced slumber._

_He mumbles incoherently, twisting so his back is towards whoever is foolish enough to annoy him._

_"Percy. We need to talk." He had to admit though, that voice was beautiful – so soothing._

_Half-awake by now, he manages a gruff reply. "Later…"_

_"No. Now. Percy!"_

_The hands are back now, and it's not helping with his hangover. Finally, he gives in, and sits up, his head pounding, eyes blurred._

_"What?" he demands roughly._

_"Look, I know it's hard for you, but can you just…" For once, Wise Girl's lost for words, and she runs her fingers through her smooth blond hair. "Can you just… pull yourself together for a few days?"_

_"I'm fine." he replies curtly, angry that she dared suggest he was in any way a wreck._

_"No, you're not, Percy. I need you to be sober for once. You've had months to get over that… that incident. You need to move on. I'll be gone for a few days to an exhibition, so I need you to look after Julia."_

_He suddenly turns bitter and frustrated. "What do you know!? You weren't Grover's best friend, were you?" Some part of him knows he's being unreasonable, but he can't help it; this helps him relieve the ache in his heart._

_"Percy…" Annabeth steps forward, almost like she wants to wrap him in a comforting hug. _

_But he doesn't want her pity._

_"It's so easy to let go, huh, when you don't really care?" he snarls._

_Annabeth instantly recoils at the absurd accusation. Her eyes widen in shock, as if Hades himself materialized out of nowhere._

_"Yeah, that's right. Act all surprised and innocent." He's quietly menacing, almost reflective for a moment, then bursts into mad raving. "Grover didn't deserve to die! He didn't! HE DIDN'T!"_

_He hardly notices when the door clicks softly shut behind Annabeth, who's struggling to hold back a flood a tears._

_After what must have been hours of alternating between screaming and silence, his throat hurts from the effort; his mind, from the pain of remembering the death of his friend. He needs a drink, he concludes. Now._

_"I'll be back in a bit." he announces loudly - so everyone in the house can hear him - before walking unsteadily outside. He's so focused on a night of partying and drinking, he doesn't see Annabeth smile sadly and mouth 'I still love you' behind him…_

_The next few hours passes in a montage of neon lights, thundering music, gyrating bodies, and hazy hallucinations, underscored by the addictively intoxicating sensation of alcohol and drugs…_

_He doesn't know how he ends up leaning against the front door to the apartment. Damn, I'm good, he tells himself. He vaguely recalls that it's 1 am, a couple hours earlier than usual. He knows it's unnatural, but his heart nonetheless swells with misplaced pride. Not bad, Percy, not bloody bad at all. You're a responsible man. Grinning happily like he's won the lottery, he proceeds to ring the bell with exaggerated care, an empty bottle still in his right hand. No response. And just like that, his mood swings straightaway – he slams the door, shouts to be let in._

_"The hell!" The door opens a crack, and Annabeth peers through it, frowning. _

_"Percy…" she sighs. "Julia's sleeping…"_

_"Why didn't you open the door." It's more of a command than a question._

_Annabeth snorts. "You can't expect everything to be instantaneous, Seaweed Brain." Placing a light kiss on his cheek, she adds, "I'm glad you're back early for once though."_

_"Why didn't you open the door." Some drug-controlled part of his mind wants to prove a point._

_Her eyes narrow when she realizes he's drunk and she finally can't contain it. This is the last straw. Months of tough work, and even more exhausting nights spent arguing with Percy take its toll. _

_"It's too hard for me. You're off Zeus-knows-where clubbing every single day. You come back drunk and stupid. I can't take it anymore, y'know? And if you don't want to think about me, think about our child. Julia. You have a responsibility and you know it, so stop giving up and wasting your life. Stop being a selfish bastard."_

_He doesn't respond. He _can't _respond. For a few minutes, both of them just stand there, eye to eye, as still as Medusa's stone statues._

_Thwack! After the initial wave of shock, he strikes back; much the way an aggressive animal would do when cornered and helpless._

_"Do. Not. Patronize. Me."_

_Annabeth climbs back up from the ground, just as a second slap sends her reeling once more._

_"Mommy? D-D-Daddy?" A little girl, hardly 6 years old, totters into the living room, clutching a worn teddy bear tightly to her chest. "I… had… a bad dream…"_

_Annabeth forces the corners of her mouth upwards and murmurs reassuringly. "Julia, just go back to your room. I'll be there in a second."_

_"B-But… I'm scared…" The girl's lower lip quivers dangerously._

_"You heard the woman. Into your room!" he barks. He sounds guttural and harsh even to himself._

_The girl shakes her head stubbornly, eyes brimming with unshed tears._

_All of a sudden, before he can control his actions and stop himself, the bottle's flying across the room in a deadly arc._

_A thousand fragments of shattered glass. A sharp, high-pitched cry. A trickle of crimson red. A flurry of movement. A mother cradling her daughter's injured hand._

_"Out." She is barely audible, but her stormy, furious eyes say it all. He's taken it too far. He harmed their child, their one and only child…_

* * *

_The next day, he reaches their, no, _her_ flat in the morning, clear-headed for a change. Taking a deep breath, he presses the bell, apologies ready on his lips. He hears footsteps, a pause, then a rush as the she retreats back to the bedroom. A loud slam._

_The day after, he's holding a box of dark chocolate and a bouquet of fresh roses – both are her favourites. For the first time in weeks, he has been sober for 2 days straight, and there's no screaming nor ranting as he patiently waits on the doorstep. Finally, the footsteps, then the pause, but this time she doesn't make it to the room in time. He can make out the sound of desperate, uncontrollable sobbing, before the bedroom door shuts and blocks it off._

_72 hours. That's a record. But to be fair, he hasn't thought of anything other than her since… that day. Once again, he's outside, but this time with nothing to offer, nothing except his pride. He is on his knees._

_To his surprise, the door opens._

_"Anna-" he begins, only to be cut off by a woman with spiky, gelled hair and a disgusted expression._

_"The fuck are you doing here?" Thalia looks like she wants to strangle him there and then._

_"Thalia. Can I talk to –" His second attempt is just as feeble as his first._

_"No. Whatever you want, it's a no." Thalia interrupts harshly. "No monster, human or animal, is getting anywhere near Annabeth when I'm alive. Get the fuck out of here before something bad happens to your balls. Oh wait, that's just the beginning."_

_Thalia shoves the door into his nose. Crack!_

_He's bleeding profusely now, but what hurts more is the final threat which follows._

_"And don't even think about coming back!"_

_Salty tears spring unbidden to his emerald eyes, trailing downwards, over his heaving chest, slipping through his trembling fingers, onto the ground. Oh, he's definitely a wreck now. And at that moment, it hits him: without her, nothing else matters…_

* * *

He would take a blunt dagger through the heart, walk through the blazing infernos of hell… and back again… if only he could take back what he did. But it's too late. Much too late.

If only he could turn back time and scream he's sorry a thousand million times.

_He'll do anything!_

If only he could get down on his knees again and beg for her forgiveness.

_Just one last chance!_

If only _they_ could sit on the beach and watch the sunset like they used to – side by side, pressed up close, fingers firmly intertwined. Together. _Forever and always_, that's what they would say.

_If only…_

_If only…_

* * *

_**Love, like or hate it, you know what to do - review! If you want to read more, feel free to follow me or pop me a message.**_

_**I'm also offering a free one-shot to the first person who can guess my avatar... xD (Check my profile for details.)**_


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